I sit holding a tiny fluff ball of a downy baby chick balanced on my palm. The chick weighs almost nothing, a feather weight of warm and oh! so precious feeling. This new year baby has arrived unbidden, but what can I do? The old is gone, the new is here and must be attended to, bidden hello, fed, nourished, noticed.

The chick peeps to me, as if to cheep merrily to me a quote from Rumi “Come! Come, even though you have failed a thousand times before Come! Come again.” And I attend. I attend to the immense silence of the earth around us. The ponderous groan of her gestation, as all the big mammals of the forests stagger beneath the weight of snowy bowers and big bellies.

Baby and Mother Blue Whale

And at sea, I feel as the whale-mothers are carrying their babies to warm Mexican waters, ready to birth as the days grow longer and the fish multiply.

The earth is bursting her seams but so quietly we can hear the bulbs sprout, the snowdrops pushing skywards, the buds unfurling into tiny blossoms. And the birds, ah yes, all around me THEY alone seem to give pulse to the turn of season, twittering and bouncing, honking, and darting with fresh urgency as though to say “The new! The new! The new!”

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